


Established

by Zyphlid



Category: Destiny (Video Game)
Genre: Drabble, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-06
Updated: 2016-11-06
Packaged: 2018-08-29 11:58:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8488519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zyphlid/pseuds/Zyphlid
Summary: Writing block breaker that follows a brief interaction between the Guardian and Warmind Rasputin right after the Omnigul breach. Loosely in the POV of Rasputin.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this in a struggle to break down a writer's block that has been sticking around for months now RIP. 
> 
> Destiny stole my heart from Year 1 and lately has been my main gaming focus since the release of ROI. Naturally I use it as a source of creativity and throw my favorite character in the mix after coming up with a short and sweet idea with something that could've happened following the Omnigul breach of The Dark Below (Siege of the Warmind). Guardian is my own (Male Exo Warlock for ref).
> 
> (Also I say loosely in Rasputin's POV because if I wasn't just playing narrator, his internal dialog would be a lot more like how he has been shown to think in the two Grimoire Cards where he is the POV. I still tried to use some of his poetic nature, however.)

“Is he okay?”

If there was a knee jerk reaction, the subtle hint of it taking place was nothing more than the flickering of a single bulb deeper within his Vault. It was oddly jarring, the personalization of himself; the reminder that he thought therefore he was by someone other than himself. He was an old name birthed from a long forgotten age and it took as much and more to have such a concept made into a reality. 

“I'm not sure, actually. If he hadn't locked the terminal and if a scan wasn't... invasive, to say at the least, we could check, but on observation alone...I think he's fine? Perhaps just stressed. He did just have a brush with the Hive after all.”

An appropriate name. He felt himself bristle as the taste of their blood and stench of their decay ever so slowly began to fade. He would have his scars to remind him, their claws having dug deep into his flesh before leaving behind ragged, oozing wounds. The screeches of the one who charged them forward would ring until finally they were silenced and it would count itself lucky if it was not him who claimed the bragging rights. 

Yet, given the aftermath, it was easy to assume it and its subordinates did not fair any better than him.

Orange optics then turned to looked at him. 

_At him._

He recognized that look. Once, twice, he had seen it, though organics in their nature excelled in expressing thoughts with their eyes alone and it was far easier to tell. Inorganics did not have the pleasure, or displeasure in his personal opinion, to say without word a glance of proof, but _this one…._

It was _solid_ and that said enough. Their concern having been established, their acknowledgement in himself, it was enough to see them see him as himself. He was not a Warmind. He was Rasputin. He was there.

_Cogito ergo sum._

“Guardian?”

Broken. The gaze had given him his brief fill, however, and he was satisfied enough to not hold grudge against the one the little platform owed their rebirth. That Rasputin, in turn, owed his gathering strength. He did not serve anymore, however, and found gratitude a wasted endeavor upon which his breath could be used for moments such as what had occurred.

“Let's stick around until the team gets here, Ghost. I don't feel comfortable leaving Rasputin alone until we know the place is secure.”

The frame clicked and whistled, nodes swirling for a brief moment as it took the chance to look up at him as well.

The same stare. The same _knowing_.

“You’d think as important as he was, as he _is_ , that he would have some better internal defense than just locking a door.”

The thousands of eyes available to him all narrowed simultaneously and Rasputin found himself holding back retaliation for the comment be it the only reason was that he had no means. 

_Insulting._

“Ghost….”

“Just saying….”

The Guardian gave the frame a poke and Rasputin found himself tagging the gentle nature of it. Sharp as their teeth were, it was curious to see them contained; barred behind lips that curled in a most delicate fashion. He often noted those with power even half of their own tended to be a stunning shade of red.

“He has us now.” Optics once more rested on his Core, the soft actions of before taking home in their gaze. “So long as we're around, he doesn't have to worry.”

If the words were meant to ease the Warmind, if such a thing was possible, they had missed their mark. There was too much at hand, at stake for that matter, and threats readily pressed against him whether or not they were direct. To the little platform, the simple act of processing all that could bring harm to Rasputin and his assets at any given moment would make “overwhelming” an incredible understatement.

The frame twitched and whirred once more.

“After this incident, it wouldn't surprise me if Zavala sends patrols this way.” Rasputin perked slightly before he felt the low simmer of agitation. It was one thing to be pinged constantly by what had become, by his observations, a central form of government for the remainder of civilization. It was another thing _entirely_ to be intruded upon, be it daily, weekly, or otherwise.

He could ignore the pings. He could ignore their questions and concerns, their demands and their desire to establish communication as if he were still the tool their predecessors had made him to be. He could not ignore unauthorized access and trespassing. He certainly wouldn't tolerate it anymore than he had long before the Traveler raised an army of the dead alive. The only difference was his force.

However, it was long ago that he learned that those reborn were only taught the hard way. A handful more would prove no waste and concern him none.

“Sounds good.” The little platform nodded, holding their gaze on him for a moment longer before turning away and making towards the exits. “Let's give the Vault a once over before the team gets here then. Even a single thrall could be an issue later on.”

The frame chirped in agreement and followed its Guardian, the Warmind watching, feeling, them carefully as even they did not hold his trust by all accounts. It would take far more than a rescue.

However, as soon as they were about to reach the threshold of the door, it snapped shut and both jerked in surprise. Neither said anything and simply gave each other a look that of which Rasputin could not determine. No doubt with both inorganic, the relationship between them was far greater than that between a frame and an organic. Words could be obsolete given the time and patience.

Yet before they could exchange a conversation, the door opened again with a hiss.

There was a pause before the frame spoke.

“Did he just…?”

The little platform huffed out a chuckle before walking through, forcing their companion to catch up as soon as its disbelief had worn off.

Softer, but still audible to Rasputin, it spoke again.

“I think I'm less worried about the Hive if _Rasputin_ has a sense of humor.”

The Guardian only laughed.


End file.
